The cat kept me awake last night, with what I think was the sound of crunching mouse bones. Since mid-April, our little Manx has been mousing. Donna now lets him go outside, and on two mornings in a row we went downstairs to find a dead mouse carefully laid out for our consumption. It is one step short of breakfast in bed, but I am sure that the cat will figure that part out soon enough, although Donna will be horrified, not proud.